


Make it and they will come

by Askellie (NadaNine)



Category: Undertale (Video Game)
Genre: Abandoned Work - Unfinished and Discontinued, Humiliation, M/M, Multi, Pornography, Prostitution, Underfell, Voyeurism
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-12-14
Updated: 2018-12-14
Packaged: 2019-09-18 03:11:32
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Rape/Non-Con
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,688
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/16987032
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/NadaNine/pseuds/Askellie
Summary: An unfinished ficlet for an idea I couldn't quite carry through. In post-pacifist Underfell, Sans runs afoul of a group of humans who want to cash in on the new, exploitable market of Monster Pornography.





	Make it and they will come

**Author's Note:**

> I wanted to post something and I have this thing that…probably isn’t going to go anywhere. Now I very rarely reject a fic draft. Generally when I start writing I have a very good idea of where I want it to go and how to get there, but this was a special case because 1) It was going to be a fic for someone I really like 2) it was a commission piece from someone else who I ALSO really like and 3) both these things mean it had to be SUPER SPECIAL AWESOME and…I decided it wasn’t good enough. >:[ So I ended up scrapping it and going with another idea that I do like better, but that means forcing myself to let this one go. Rather than just leave it abandoned in my scrap folder, I figure some of you might enjoy it even if it’s unfinished.
> 
> Content Warnings: Underfell post-pacifist, Sans/Humans, non-consensual, forced prostitution, pornography, voyeurism, humiliation.

Coming out of heavy sedation already in a blind panic was an absolutely terrifying experience. Sans’s last memories were of rough hands and dark, cramped cages, leaving him completed disoriented when he forced open his eyes in a blindingly bright room that was utterly unfamiliar. He was lying flat on a soft surface, no longer forced into a painful crouch to accommodate the smallness of his cell, but he was also completely naked. He spent one bewildered moment looking down at his frail, vulnerable body before he began to flail in mindless panic.

“Fuck, no, no!” he slurred, his skull feeling as if it was packed full of rocks, too heavy to lift properly. He’d finally been sold, and given the limited options for a monster as weak as himself, there were very few places he could have ended up. This didn’t look like one of the zoos so it had to be one of the laboratories. His body trembled with memories of the underground, of Gaster, and he gibbered incoherently, practically hysterical, until his vision finally cleared enough to expose some discrepancies with his assumption.

For one, he wasn’t lying on a sterile examination table, but on a strangely luxurious postered bed. The headboard was padded with dark leather, and though his wrists were manacled and chained to opposing corners, he had a much larger range of movement than he might have expected. His lower half wasn’t bound at all, and he swiftly pulled his legs up to his chest, curling them protectively against his body.

The room was empty – of humans, at least, and of any of the equipment he would have expected to see; computers, scanning devices, trays of scalpels and bone saws. Instead there were cameras mounted blatantly around the room, some of them at oddly low angles around the bed. Clearly he was being watched. He stared tensely at one before twisting his head away, trying to find an angle where he could be discreet about scrubbing away the few mortifying tears he had shed in his panic. His soul still felt like it wanted to hammer its way out of his chest and flee, but he’d calmed down slightly now that his very worst fear seemingly hadn’t come to pass.

(Unless this was some sort of test. He wasn’t dismissing that possibility just yet.)

Across the room, the door was flung open with such force that Sans jolted back against the headboard, a small strangled sound startled out of him that thankfully went unheard over the exuberant entrance of two humans. Neither of them were dressed in lab coats, which was a near-painful relief, but the way they were dressed somehow didn’t fill him with much reassurance. One of them wore neatly pressed business slacks, the matching jacket slung casually over his arm, his pale shirt casually unbuttoned to midway down his chest. The other was completely shirtless, and worse nothing but a tight pair of leather pants studded with curious loops of steel at the belt and thighs.

“Ahh, our little star is awake,” the shirtless one said, his expression so gleeful he looked almost manic. His face had been elaborately painted – make-up was the human word, apparently – his eyes outlined with dark, dramatic shadows and a shimmering highlight across his cheekbones. He was the kind of human Alphys would swoon over, Sans mused grimly, strangely pretty and incredibly flamboyant. He reminded Sans of Mettaton, albeit with less arms and flamethrowers.

The other human took out what appeared to be yet another camera, pointing the lens towards Sans. “Nice. We can start gathering footage for the trailers.”

“Excellent!” Shirtless practically bounded onto the bed, the movements as carefree as a child’s, but not even that could distract Sans from how large the human was up close. His only experience was with Frisk, who was about the most harmless creature in existence. This human was big, broad shouldered and muscular, his frame solid in a way Sans would never be due to his lack of flesh and organs. He curled up more tightly, but the human paused in front of him and offered a smile that might have been friendly if not for all the teeth in it. “Hello, sweetheart. Why don’t you tell us your name?”

 _Sweetheart_!? Sans bristled, having never been on the other end of that particular endearment. Now he kinda understood why Frisk had always scrunched up their nose at him. From the corner of his eye, he saw the other human taking a less invasive seat on the edge of the mattress, focused on the fold-out screen displaying the footage.

“What…what the fuck?” he snarled with as much vehemence as he could muster, perturbed by the abrasive friendliness and the question. “What the hell is this!?”

“Ooh, a pretty face and a dirty mouth. I like that,” Shirtless said, leering unabashedly. He leaned closer, imposing on Sans’s personal space. “Welcome to Exxxotic Explorations, sweetheart. The leading studio in cutting edge adult entertainment.”

Sans gaped a little, not having actually expected an answer even if it didn’t mean a whole lot to him. ‘Adult entertainment’ sounded like the little warning labels on some of Alphys’s secret anime stash, but he’d never allowed her to convince him to watch any so he didn’t know how it differed from the rest of her collection.

Thoughtlessly, he threw a bewildered look at the other human, who glanced up at him and offered a wicked grin. “We make porn.”

“We make quality adult films,” Shirtless huffed with a pompous, exaggerated sniff while Sans spluttered, staring around at the room, the bed, the cameras. _The cameras_.

Oh god.

“You wouldn’t believe the demand we’ve had to include monsters in our roster,” Shirtless continued, seemingly oblivious to Sans’s horrified stare. “So…welcome to the team. You can call me Master, or Sir. I’ll be your handler.”

He smiled again, eyes hooded and canines bared, and Sans realised he wasn’t so oblivious after all. He tried to keep his bones from quaking, but it was hard to quell the sudden, nauseating distress.

* * *

 

 

**_[Blah blah, moar exposition, backstory, snarking and panicking, Sans hates everything and these humans in particular. Normally I do write my fics in sequential order, but this was about the point I started having doubts about whether this idea was WORTHY of the purpose I was writing it for (ie. for peeps I adore). So since I was questioning it, I jumped straight into the porn to see if I could sell myself on the idea. Turned out I couldn’t. :( ]_ **

 

* * *

 

“D-don’t t-touch me,” he gasped, his stuttering nearly worse than Alphys’. He tried to stay hunched in a ball but Shirtless took hold of his ankles and slowly pulled them down with easy strength. Sans’s bones felt as sturdy as glass against the physical might of a grown human, and he didn’t dare fight too hard as he was slowly stretched out until his body was supine again, spread-eagled. He stared up at the ceiling, chest heaving in its struggle for breath, and belatedly realised that directly above him was yet another camera, ready to capture every moment of his violation.

Shirtless nudged his legs further apart and then, satisfied, ran his large hands up each tibia in what was probably meant to be a soothing caress. “Don’t worry, sweetheart, this isn’t going to hurt. We’re gonna be gentle. Just relax.”

He moved in between Sans’s spread femurs, his weight dipping the mattress like a shift in gravity pulling Sans towards him. Sans turned his face away, desperate to look at anything but what was about to happen, and found himself facing the impersonal lens of the camera being held by the other human. Unlike his handler, this human’s expression seemed almost impassive, which was the closest Sans might get to sympathy. His jaw quivered, the words threatening to stick in his throat before he made himself beg.

“Please, don’t. I d-don’t…want this!”

Unfortunately that only made the camera man’s mouth twitch in a sly smile. “Go ahead and beg for the camera. We can always edit it so you sound more enthusiastic.”

Hateful, humiliated tears pricked at his sockets. He closed his eyes, trying to will the remnants of the sedation to put him back under again so he could be unconscious for this. He could hear Shirtless making slick, obscene sounds as he spread something liquid over his hands before reaching down and delicately placed his fingers along the brim of his illiac crests.

Sans jolted, not only at the touch, but the odd, icy bite of whatever Shirtless had spread on his hands. “Hngh…fuck, what the…?”

“You really do have a dirty mouth,” Shirtless hummed thoughtfully, sounding amused. “How does it feel?”

It bewildered him that the human seemed so oddly invested in his comfort during his rape. He supposed they wanted it to look better for the cameras, or maybe there was some sort of animal cruelty law they were trying to avoid. “Cold.”

“Sensitive?” Shirtless questioned. Sans hesitated, then nodded warily. “Good, good. We weren’t sure how much your bones could actually feel.”

Shirtless grazed his hands down the scooping interior of his pelvis, and unfortunately Sans betrayed exactly how susceptible that particular part of his anatomy was by gasping, his spine arching into the sensation as his blush deepened. Whatever lubricant the human was using started cold and then started to burn with a pleasant heat. It didn’t take more than a few exploratory strokes along the contours of his pelvis before Sans came to the horrifying realisation that the stimulation was actually working. He’d somehow thought his body wouldn’t be able to work past his innate revulsion at the idea of sex with a human, but Shirtless touch was the right balance between gentle and firm, and the foreign softness of his fleshy fingers was strangely enticing. The flush of magic spread downwards, colouring the spaces between his joints with a pale red haze. Both humans seemed fascinated, and Cameraman was leaning close to capture every moment of his reaction in invasive detail.


End file.
